​"Mrs. Manchester, you said something about my mother’s soul. She indeed shattered her soul," Mirabella stated, her voice steady, though her mind was racing.

​"Really?" Mrs. Manchester turned to Mirabella, her ethereal golden eyes wide with sudden, desperate hope.

​"If she did that, it means she isn’t dead," the phantom woman breathed, the golden light of her form flickering with emotion. "Locate one of her souls and ask her the way to make her whole again." She paused, her gaze shifting to Carl, her expression morphing into one of profound sorrow.

"I wish we had that power, but we are gone forever," she muttered sadly, the reality of her shattered existence settling heavily over her.

​Mirabella turned to Carl. He was entirely silent, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white beneath his gloves. To give him a moment to process the weight of his fabricated life, she redirected the conversation to the immediate mechanics of his power.

​"You mentioned something about Carl’s bloodline stages. How many are there?" she asked, analyzing the phantom couple.

​"Oh." Mrs. Manchester turned to her husband, deferring the explanation to the warrior of the family. He gave a solemn nod and answered Mirabella’s question.

​"There are five stages," Mr. Manchester explained, his voice resonating with the ancient authority of the Fourth World. "When you advance to each stage, you gain two extra wings. At the moment, Carl only has two, meaning he still has eight wings to unlock. Which will make it ten."

​"Ten wings?" Mirabella turned to Carl in surprise. Her mind tried to map the physical anatomy of such a mutation. Trying to imagine how ten massive wings would functionally fit on a humanoid back without hindering combat mobility seemed impossible.

​Noticing her analytical frown, Mrs. Manchester chuckled softly, a sound like chiming crystal. "No. No. That’s not it," she said, waving her spectral hand.

​Her husband stepped forward. "Just watch me."

​A blinding, pure golden light started emanating from his phantom body, pushing back the oppressive darkness of Mirabella’s abyssal dome. The next moment, six magnificent, feathered wings—three on each side—erupted from his back. But it didn’t stop there. The extra four wings appeared completely separate from his physical form, hovering autonomously in the air around him like orbital guardians.

​"This is it," Mr. Manchester declared, his aura suddenly oppressive, even in death:

"These four wings have the strength of God-class artifacts. And they work like an extra limb. If he reaches this stage, he will be able to control these four God-class artifact wings, and his own weapons to fight."

​He explained the mechanics of the Golden Angel Clan’s apex form. His words stunned Mirabella; the advantage of having four autonomous, mind-linked, God-tier weapons on the battlefield was immeasurable. Meanwhile, Carl’s gaze was fixed on his father in absolute disbelief. The radiant, divine warlord standing before him was a complete stranger compared to the quiet, mundane father he remembered. Everything he had known about his life was a lie, from the very start. If Mirabella hadn’t indirectly pushed him to open the grave, he would never have known his parents were exiled elites from the Fourth World.

​Mirabella slowly nodded her head, absorbing the lore. "Ok, but I would like to ask one question... Can you tell me about the Aethelgard family?"

​The temperature inside the dome seemed to plummet. The two phantom couples froze in absolute shock. The majestic energy around Mr. Manchester vanished instantly, and his floating wings dissolved into golden mist. The two fixed their serious, hardened gazes on Mirabella.

​"There are things you shouldn’t ask about with your current strength, but we can tell you some parts." He continued:

"The Aethelgard family are now the supreme rulers of the Fourth World," Mr. Manchester spat, his voice thick with a sudden, suffocating killing intent:

"Due to their greed for power, they betrayed the Sun family, caused the Great War... which led to countless deaths, and even led to many families’ extinction!! All because of that bastard who called himself the Great King!"

​His words struck like physical blows, stunning both Mirabella and Carl.

​’The Great King?’ Mirabella thought, her heart skipping a beat. She subconsciously raised her hand, her fingertips brushing against her forehead, tracing the invisible outline of the mysterious mark branded upon her.

​"Yes... But it isn’t his fault," Mrs. Manchester suddenly interrupted, her voice a sharp contrast to her husband’s rage.

​"Why would you say that?!" Mr. Manchester yelled at his wife, the betrayal of their exile bubbling to the surface. "If he didn’t betray the Sun family, none of this would have happened?!"

​"I know you are angry, love... But Lady Genevieve told me the war wasn’t his fault," she pleaded, dropping a revelation that shattered the established narrative. "I don’t know what happened, but she said it’s all a misunderstanding and she didn’t have the time to explain."

"...?!"

​Her words stunned Mr. Manchester into silence. He stared at his wife, his jaw clenched.

​"You hid this from me?" he asked with a deep, betrayed frown.

​"Well, we arrived safely on Earth, so I didn’t see the need to tell you, sorry." she said quickly, her spectral eyes avoiding his. She immediately turned her head to Mirabella, her tone turning deadly serious. "But still, make sure to stay away from the Great King. He’s still evil. The whole of the Aethelgard family is evil."

​The two youngsters could only nod their heads, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the cosmic politics they were inheriting.

​"Oh well, their plan succeeded, and they’re now the main rulers of the Fourth World," Mr. Manchester sighed, the centuries of fatigue returning to his posture. "The remaining families who survived the war all joined forces with them, boosting their power and influence." He then narrowed his golden eyes and pointed his finger directly at Mirabella.

​"Now... In your experience so far, what rank is the strongest monster you have fought?" he asked seriously, trying to gauge her current survival odds in the higher realms.

​Mirabella met his gaze without flinching. "A Realm Boss... If you’re speaking of the higher worlds, I have fought a Great Celestial ancient dragon."

​Mr. Manchester let out a harsh, disbelieving breath. "In the Fourth World, Realm Rulers are just the vanguard, they aren’t that important... Their strength is only comparable to, at highest, a Nine-Star cultivator. But a Great Celestial stage ancient dragon? How did you even survive such an enemy? Did you escape?" he asked in profound confusion, staring at the young woman who possessed his liege lord’s bloodline.

​"Nope," Mirabella answered flatly, her confidence radiating through the dark dome. "I killed him."

​Her words hung in the air, completely stunning the ancient couple.